I used to talk a lot. I’d do anything to keep the conversation going, to not be alone. If there was a lull, I’d say things like, “really?” or “wow” or “oh,” on and on. A filler. That’s all it was. Filler words had a hidden meaning to them; they begged, on hands and knees, and said, “Keep talking to me I can’t lose you I’d talk my throat dry if it meant you always had something to respond to.”
I’m not scared to lose anyone anymore. I’m only scared of letting the wrong ones in.
People come and people go. If I am the ocean, then I have to be mindful of what floats my way; everything either adds to my ecosystem or tries to destroy it.
It is not so terrifying to be alone, after all, because peace is more important than all else.
To be respected, you must not let anyone disrespect you again, because at the end of the day, the only one you’ll have to answer to is yourself.
To define what exactly it means to be worthy of respect is tricky. You could mention achievements or accolades, popularity, goals attained, money earned, but even that is worthless if you don’t have heart.
Who did you love and why?
Were you brave enough to bare your soul?
Did you protect the innocent or did you step on the good guys as a means to an end?
Did you fight?
Are you still fighting?
Fighting to live, to seek justice, to prosper, to be free?
I deserve the utmost respect because I am a survivor. Because I chose life. Because I will never stop fighting. Because I refuse to just be “alive.” Because I will become life.